you are archival,
reflecting loss like stained glass.
hologram man,
clock timing
skin smiling
I want you to sex me but instead
you edge me till I’m a precipice
desiring delicious descent.

‘you can’t will your way
into someone’s heart,’ she says.

you bask in the glow
of an illuminated screen
my pictures warming,
the contents of
your pant pocket.
you’re getting to be
a head full of fantasy and
elevated impossibility
plummeting my psyche into
a spiral of recollections
wound by paranoid

I dress in disguises,
shrouding my skin in smoke
billows, wavers
his face receding
like shadows.
absent daddy
licking salt like it’s sugar.
I tongue your lust
undoing myself in the process.

she says,
‘plexiglass doesn’t shatter.’
when I dream of mirrors,
I wake in shards.


CASSIDY SCANLON is a poet and visual artist who knows too much about astrology. Visit her site and follow her on Twitter @sassidysucklon.